


hell is the sun

by moodyorange



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, I’m sorry, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, and daichi is doing what he can, drugs as in weed, drugssss, it’s gonna b pretty sad, literally pretty much all of karasuno, really this is a shit show, suga is mess and trying his best, trauma/coping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyorange/pseuds/moodyorange
Summary: O wind, rend open the heat,cut apart the heat,rend it to tatters.Fruit cannot dropthrough this thick air—fruit cannot fall into heatthat presses up and bluntsthe points of pearsand rounds the grapes.Cut the heat—plough through it,turning it on either sideof your path.—Hilda Doolittle; Suga and Daichi used to be It. They used to fit together so well that the world would cry in a perfect harmony. Now it seems to scream, because they’ve eroded with time and circumstance and are learning what it means to fit again.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	hell is the sun

**Author's Note:**

> *scratches head* so yeah lskvkgkekf uh this is like idk this is what it i am literally not expecting anyone to read this but hi how r u hope ur doing ok bc you’ve stumbled across daisuga angst hope this is acceptable for a first chapter it’s kinda boring bc i like go ham with descriptions i’m rambling ok enjoy if ur reading this ily muah also i don’t have a beta so this is fkgkrk a mess

i.

Behind his closed eyes it was bright. The light was golden and warm and filling. It felt safe. As soon as Suga opened his eyes, he knew it was too perfect, too beautiful and lovely, and everything nice in the world. But he decided he was going to savor it, in his unconscious mind. It was distorted and abstract in the way that most dreams normally are, not vivid enough to keep in memory, but the images were opaque enough to remember snippets in waking, in those few seconds between sleep and awake. That’s what made it so beautiful, it was a fleeting but mesmerizing thing how dreams can save a person.

In the dream, they were lying on his bedroom floor. It must have been early morning because rays of the rising sun peeked through the thin curtains. The light cascaded across Daichi’s face, shadows getting caught on one side of his nose, in the little dimples on his cheeks, in the innermost corners of his eyes, right below his eyebrows. Suga just laid and ran his fingers over every part of his face. His skin tingled and cursed him because it wasn’t real, but he ignored it. He wanted to enjoy this, to hold this image close to his heart, even if it was only in his mind’s eye, even if this was only a figment of his sleeping wants and needs. If there was a god for dreams, Suga would be thanking them. When his fingers got to Daichi’s lips, he felt the boy hum against him, his voice almost lilting and content and tired.

This was the moment Suga realized they were boys. His dream had transported him back in time, to an old body, an old Suga, an old Daichi. To their high school selves. If he wasn’t sleeping, Suga would have probably been crying at that realization, but in the dream, he wasn’t upset, only newly informed. The original intent was still there, and in these new, well old, bodies, they didn’t have to care about anything. That was a time in their lives that came easy when all Suga had been was school, volleyball, and Daichi. That’s what kept him calm, those rose-colored glasses that let him pretend everything was going to be alright. Daichi’s eyes fluttered open and looked up at Suga who was leaning over him, weight resting on an elbow. He smiled, and Suga thought it was the most radiant thing he had ever seen. He felt full, cocooned, and completely encased in the warmth that that smile exuded.

“You’re beautiful,” Suga felt himself saying. No sound came out, because it was a dream and in this dream, there was no talking, just the practice of it. A flush painted Daichi’s cheeks that coated his face in a pink glow. Suga was smiling, his heart beat rapidly in his chest from happiness. This is all I’ll ever need, he thought, brushing his hand across Daichi’s forehead, moving his short hair out of the way.

The room was hazy and almost out of focus and the lighting seemed to not have a definitive source, now not only streaming from the window but in wisps around the boys. Despite that, all Suga was focused on was the boy beside him, eyes dark with must have been sleep. It felt so beautifully domestic, it rolled itself into a ball in Suga’s lower stomach. He wanted this so bad, he wanted this more than anything that it made his world feel like it was falling apart. It was so bitterly sweet, how beautiful the picture the dream had painted was.

Suga felt it like a chasm in his chest, he felt it like a pulling and stretching at everything he was and made of. Daichi reached up and cupped Suga’s cheek in his hand, brushing a calloused thumb over smooth skin. In his dream voice, Suga hummed. Daichi’s lips started moving like words were supposed to come out. Yet no sound fell, nothing reached Suga’s ears or mind. Daichi didn’t seem to realize that this form of communication wasn’t working, and just kept talking, slowly. Suga could tell that he was being charming and gentle and kind with his words. He could see the shape of loving dotes form on his lips, but his ears were deaf to them. Tears welled up in Suga’s eyes, thick and blurry and heavy.

Daichi was unaware, never caught sight of Suga’s distress, and when he used his other hand to run up Suga’s arm, the touch was numb to the dreamer. The comfort Daichi had possessed not two minutes ago disappeared. He was right in front of him, he was still acting and doing and speaking and loving, but it didn’t work. And that’s what was tearing at the insides of Koushi. Suga cried out, flung himself onto Daichi, gripping and holding onto dear life. He wished to be grounded, he wished to feel safe and whole and home. Instead, he felt like he was slipping away, floating off into the distance to the next galaxy over where there was no Daichi to hold him down to earth.

“I love you,” Suga screamed, it felt rough in his throat. “Please, please please pleasepleaseplease,” He begged, but he didn’t know what he was begging for. He needed anything, wanted everything because nothing was enough.

There wasn’t any floor beneath them anymore, there were no walls to hold them in. Suga was once again reminded that this was a dream, that his mind was at play, and that he was at the mercy of it. Daichi looked as beautiful as ever, glowing and godly and fluorescent. Suga wasn’t in his highschool body anymore, he was back to his present self. His fingers looked thinner, his skin had more blemishes. But Daichi stayed the same, and he looked at Suga with all his boyhood and innocence. His eyes were wide, open, and waiting for the world, like Suga’s used to be. Koushi felt lidded, darkened, tainted with age and experience and life. He felt heavy again, and so he fell. And fell and fell and fell and fell until his eyes opened, and he was awake.

i. i.

The sun was sinking slowly over the horizon and cast the world in an evening glow. It illuminated the lake, reflected on the ripples of the water, and caught on the shadows of the trees. Cicadas hummed loud in his ears, the sound filled him up in a buzz that only summer anticipation can give a person. It was overwhelming, the heat was already starting to subside and eddy out with the sun, the light taking the warmth taking the day and leaving the nights that grew shorter with every passing day.

Daichi wasn’t expecting to see anything on the little dock that belonged to his grandfather. He was coated in a day’s worth of sweat and found refuge in the peaceful sounds the lake held. Daichi wasn’t expecting anything because for a while there hadn’t been anything to expect. His days went by languidly, him waiting and hoping and wondering, stuck in Karumai with nothing but reminders upon reminders of what used to be. So when he saw a slim figure sitting on the swing that hung from the dock, Daichi felt like his world had stopped, like his heart had skipped multiple beats, like his lungs forgot how to breathe. He wasn’t supposed to be here anymore, he was supposed to be gone, yet there he was. It was easier for Daichi to pretend he was a figment of his imagination for a while, an inkling of the only desire Daichi allowed himself the pleasure of having anymore.

He stood there like a blubbering fish, opening and closing his mouth trying to figure out if he had it in him to walk up to the figure. He watched as they brought their fingers to their lips and inhaled smoke from a cigarette. Their fingers were as slim as ever, gorgeous, kissable, Daichi felt tears well up in his eyes.

The courage built up little by little, with each setting inch of the sun on the horizon. He watched as the person flicked ashes into the water, as the water reacted in one tiny wave racing for the next. Finally, he felt like who he used to be, a little more confident in himself, a little more trusting in those he loved, the darkness of the night put a guise over him, the overwhelming fuzzy feeling of nostalgia pooled at the center of his chest. This is it. He thought, taking a long breath of hot air.

The wet grass caved at his feet, leaving pressed down spots like foam. It reminded Daichi of memories, but he wasn’t sure why. Time seemed to stretch into eons with every step Daichi took closer to the dock, the lake, his heart. His reality seemed like an elastic band that never sprang back, it just kept expanding, tunnel vision set only for what was in front of him.

Daichi’s foot finally hit the wood, he was louder than he wanted to be, it startled himself and Suga, who flinched only slightly, and turned to look at the person who decided to visit him. They didn’t say anything for a moment, they just stood in mutual silence, trying to figure out their own thoughts first. Daichi felt pressurized, explosive, his skin itched and his chest felt ready to burst. It was Suga, he knew now, he knew from the beginning, but now he knew. He was angelic, hair falling flatter than a few years ago, skin pale in the moonlight. Daichi could see the veins in his eyelids and the dried salty sweat sparkling on his skin. He felt everything he used to be and felt and wanted to come crashing back to him, like the ocean in a storm and he was a little lifeboat carrying his heart and his brain and everything was going under.

Daichi felt a sob welling up in his throat, but he held it in. Not now, not yet. Instead, he held his hands over his face, covering his eyes and mouth, they were traitors to his feelings. “S-Suga.” He said, his voice nearly cracking.

He heard the creaking of the swing as Suga stood up and came closer to him. Daichi could smell the cigarette smoke that still clung to him. It was a sweet sort of smell, he didn’t mind it. He tried his hardest to look strong, to seem at ease because he could tell this wasn’t the same Koushi from their third year in high school. Daichi dropped his hands from his face and looked up to see Suga standing across from him. He looked weighted, heavy with something Daichi didn’t know. All the words Daichi had been planning on saying bubbled up and then out, leaving nothing in their place.

Suga looked at him like all his questions had been answered, with a sad, tired kind of relief, and Daichi wanted to break, but he held himself up. His fingers ached to run through Suga’s silver hair, a feeling that was so familiar Daichi could still remember how the strands felt between them. There was so much to say, but no way to get the words out, so neither did. Except Suga held his gaze, strong and soft and complex. His eyes held the world, they held himself and Daichi would crumble under them if Suga would let him. It felt strange, this pull that felt so awkwardly placed. It sat unacknowledged between the two twenty-somethings because they were scared. So Suga looked and looked and looked and a small smile fell on his lips. They looked chapped, his cheeks more hollowed out than in highschool.

The smile opened, a canyon formed inside Daichi, and Suga spoke. His voice was breathy, it caught in his throat with rasps, it felt heavier than Daichi had ever heard it. “Hey, Daichi.”

i. ii.

They didn’t talk much on that first night of the reunion. It felt awkward, like teenagers on their first day of school, it felt off. Suga knew it was because they weren’t how they used to be. He knew he wasn’t the same boy that Daichi played volleyball with. After Suga had said hey, he had lead Daichi to sit beside him on the swing. The sky was dark at that point, the moon reflected on the metallic surface of the water, rippling from bubbles or fish or turtles. The sight of Daichi for the first time in years had been catastrophic to Suga’s heart and brain, as jumbled as he already was, he just got even more twisted and mushy inside, it probably wasn’t good for him. Suga remembered how Daichi’s eyes were glossy. How his lips seemed hydrated and his hands looked rough.

God Suga had wanted to melt, he wanted to become a pool of the being he used to be, he wanted to be erased and turned into goo. Because Daichi was as gorgeous and handsome and beautiful as ever and Suga knew he was a mess. He hadn’t bothered looking in a mirror before going out to the dock, he had pulled at the thin skin beneath his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and decided that was that. So he sat, feeling like a broken child next to a responsible adult, and smoked his cigarette and hummed when Daichi spoke up.

“I didn’t know that you smoked.” Daichi’s voice was quiet, firm, Suga’s heart sighed.

That made Suga laugh because he didn’t know he smoked either until he did, it had become a habit born from the habits of others and now he was stuck. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Daichi raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward, “You guess?”

Koushi felt light, he knew it wouldn’t last, “Yeah. You want a hit?”

“I guess so,” Daichi said with a shrug and took the cigarette Suga offered him. The burnt end glowed orange as he inhaled, burning down closer to his fingers. The ashes hung by a string on the end. Daichi coughed once, twice, and relaxed back into the swing. Suga made sure not to laugh at the man’s distressed breathing and instead offered an encouraging smile, hoping it was enough.

Suga didn’t know how he was supposed to act around this Daichi, as this Suga. He couldn’t bring himself to put on a guise of togetherness, the way he used to be, reliable, helpful. He couldn’t gauge how different this Daichi was either, what had changed? What had shifted behind those strong eyes? Suga didn’t know. It stressed him out a little bit, the not knowing, the surprise and unexpectedness of this person he used to know so well. He used to know all of them so well.

Which was partly why he was currently laying on Kiyoko’s bed, smoke curling around her room in whisps, pretty fucking zooted. It was the day after the night at the lake, and Suga left feeling so uneasy that he needed something to relieve that, and his best friend and a bit of weed was as good as anything to help. He didn’t want to think about the future or the rift that had grown between him and Daichi since they’ve lost touch after high school. He didn’t want to think about how heavy and awkward their interaction was on the dock, the tension palpable. Daichi told him he was a police officer, which Suga thought was fitting, seeing how caring yet strict he was with their old volleyball team. They talked about superficial stuff, conversation shallow and quiet, barely scratching the surface of the couple years they’d been apart.

It was irritating, that things couldn’t just automatically go back to how they were, the chemistry and comfort and warmth they used to hold. So Suga stayed cold and shivered because being high always made him freeze. Time was slow, one song seemed to cruise out of the speaker for what felt like thirty minutes but was actually three, it was a lazy, full, type of feeling. But he was also buzzing.

“I don’t know what to do.” He said, passing the bowl back to Kiyoko, who just hummed and took a soft hit. Suga thought that she was as beautiful as ever, if not with a couple of years of maturity. Sometimes he wanted to kiss her as much as he wanted to kiss Daichi. He actually did, once, but he was drunk, and so was she, and it was a friendly sort of kiss that people do under the influence.

“Kiyoko, how do I fix this?” Suga asked again. Sometimes talking with Kiyoko felt like talking to empty air.

Kiyoko moved to lay beside him, the warmth from her body close enough to melt into his side, the sliver of skin exposed on his waist rose with goosebumps. The movement was too much for his brain for a second, but once she got settled down he quieted inside. She sighed, it was full of sorrow and Suga immediately regretted asking her for advice. He suddenly didn’t want her type of help. He suddenly wanted the type of help his dark room back at college had, cold and empty and the type of help and comfort that allowed a sad person to become even sadder.  
The thing was, there was a reason Suga came back. His mother knew Kiyoko knew. No one would know if he had any say in the matter, but that’s not how things work. He felt it in his throat, welling up like a pregnant woman about to give birth except Suga refused to let it out, so he swallowed. Kiyoko saw him swallow, watched his adam’s apple bob, watched as he tried his hardest in all his inebriated glory to keep himself together.

She stared at him, firm, her glasses seemed foggy, “Suga, you didn’t come here to fix things with Daichi.”

Suda didn’t want to hear that, he pretends he doesn’t.

“I’m serious.”

Suga rolled over to face her, his eyes silently pleading for her to stop. She does because she knows why he’s back. After all, she understands. Instead of saying anything, he buried his head in the crook of her neck and wrapped his arms around her. It’s an awkward angle, but Kiyoko doesn’t protest and lets Suga hold onto her. He didn’t cry, instead just breathed her in and absorbed the quiet love that was their friendship. His mind traveled to places he didn’t want to go, he couldn’t stop it. He felt trapped in his own body, suffocating in a stifled headspace with no room left. Just dust and files upon files of one moment, night, event. If Suga could reach inside his brain and burn those files he would, but he couldn’t. So instead he smoked weed and cuddled his best friend who was probably tired of dealing with his shit stain of a mental state.

It was all he could do.

i. iii.

Daichi sighed into his hands, hot air blew drops of sweat into his eyes. His head hurt, a pounding ache he had grown accustomed to since his fall in his third year of high school, but over the past couple of days, it had grown to encompass his whole head, even reaching the top-most part of his neck. He was frustrated and tired and working in the heat of the summer seemed to siphon everything out of him. He felt like an old man with rusted joints and weak legs and thin, wrinkled skin.

It had been two days since Daichi had seen Suga on the dock, two days since the past came crashing back into him like a building collapsing under the pressures of a tsunami. Two fucking days without a word, without a visit, without a sign. Daichi went back to the dock the next night, and the night after, hoping to find the silver-haired boy, well man. He had waited and waited and even brought one of his grandfather’s lighters. It weighed heavy in his pocket, the cheap orange plastic smooth against his calloused fingertips. He had never had any use of a lighter (that was a lie, he and Suga certainly were not perfect high school students), and the presence of it in his jacket frightened him a little. Daichi knew it was stupid and childish, and a persevering vat of immature hope that once burned so little. Seeing Suga had ignited that hope in him again.

Daichi felt as if he was burning. In the literal sense, his skin was pink on his nose and cheeks, and shoulders. The hot flaming sun of the summer radiated the kind of heat Daichi detested, it was stifling and humid, the type of heat that choked and clogged. But he also felt like he was burning on the inside. Figuratively of course. There seemed to be this new fire burning in the pit of his belly, a home to a dragon breathing hot smoky breaths that filled him up with a fever. Maybe that was why his headache pulsed rather violently today. The smoke built up, aching to be released and the pressure rose and eventually Diachi knew he would explode.

The cold beer in his hand did nothing to ease that feeling. He sipped, savoring the relief it gave him against the heat. It eased for a second and then disappeared and he was back to being stifling and uncomfortable. That was what the alcohol was for, he guessed. It might have seemed sad, his situation, but Daichi didn’t care much about it. Sure it was a bit depressing to sit and drink beer in an empty apartment by yourself however, Daichi was about as much of an adult as he was ever going to be and in his brain this was a normal thing. His dad would do it, his grandfather would do it, it was a deeply instilled thing that came from years of observing, growing accustomed to the smell of beer from a hug, a burp, etcetera. Daichi chose not to dwell on the thought for long as a rule, he couldn’t handle the added anxiety of dealing with generational trauma.

So instead of dealing with his inner problems he chose to deal with his present issue, the one of Sugawara Koushi. Just thinking about his old friend made Daichi feel lighter on the inside, like there were butterflies breaking from a chrysalis and were taking flight and bringing his body along with them to wherever they go. He wanted to tell Suga so many things, he wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and scream at him and ask him why he drifted off. He wanted to tell him about his little sister and how she is playing basketball and how he had a therapist for a few months because of his concussion and how Hinata and Tanaka and Noya got arrested for accidentally vandalizing the school. He wanted to ask him how college was and why he was back and why he smoked and if he made any friends in his classes.

But he couldn’t, not at the moment. All he could do was sip his beer and hope Suga was thinking about Daichi as much as Daichi was thinking about Suga.

Daichi was on his fourth beer and his belly was starting to feel warmer than it had. He sighed and ran his hands over his face, they were rough, Daichi tried hard not to think about how soft Suga’s hands were last time he touched them. But that was years ago. He pulled out his phone and opened up his list of contacts. He stared at Suga’s name, trying to convince him through the phone to contact him first, to text, call, tell him that he needed him. Nothing came through, and Daichi was tired. He was so tired of sitting and waiting and hoping. But he was back, and that had to mean something.

**Author's Note:**

> yes first chapter if like anyone wants my playlist that i listen to when writing this??’;&(@)@ i can make one on spotify and idk yeah no one is gonna care that much about this anyways bye dk when the next chapter will be up it will happen eventually


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